That dim desk lamp was the only source of light in the bedroom that had been sealed off for ten years. The light cast the shadows of three people onto the mottled wall, twisting and stretching them like three ghosts burdened with heavy secrets. Chen Mo's voice fell in this deathly silence, each word like a heavy pebble, stirring up unquenchable ripples in the hearts of Li Xiaodong and Song Wenqi.

"One piece of evidence, to be sacrificed. One piece of evidence, to pass judgment."


Li Xiaodong stared blankly at Chen Mo. It took him a long time to fully digest the meaning in these words. Sacrifice. This word coming from Chen Mo's mouth was so calm, yet carried a world-shattering resolve. He finally understood Chen Mo's plan. It was a plan of mutual destruction, using the document signed with Zhao Lixin's name as bait to attract everyone's attention and firepower, exposing himself in the most dangerous position, thereby creating an absolute opportunity to use the truly lethal evidence—that recording.

"Brother Chen, no!" Li Xiaodong blurted out, his voice carrying a hint of panic that he himself hadn't even noticed. "It's too dangerous! You're basically making yourself a living target!"

"Without a target, how will they come out of the shadows?" Chen Mo's tone didn't show the slightest ripple; he simply looked calmly at Li Xiaodong, his gaze as if looking at a child who hadn't grown up yet. "Xiaodong, remember this: we've already lost the conventional war. From now on, what we need to fight is an information war. In this war, truth is our only bullet. We only have one chance to fire. If we can't kill with one shot, we'll never have another chance."


His gaze shifted to the old laptop, a secondhand device he had asked Li Xiaodong to buy. On the computer screen, traces still remained from when Li Xiaodong had drawn that map.

"You, now, immediately, digitally back up all the files and recordings," Chen Mo's tone changed to an indisputable command. "Use the highest level of encryption and store them in an absolutely secure cloud drive. Make the username and password as complex as possible, set up a logic that only you can remember, and then completely forget what it originally looked like."


Li Xiaodong didn't argue any further. He knew that from the moment he knocked on Chen Mo's door, he no longer had any choice. Looking at Chen Mo's bloodless face and those eyes burning with their last light, he nodded heavily.

In the hours that followed, the bedroom transformed into a temporary war room. The laptop's fan emitted a low humming sound, like background music for some ritual. Li Xiaodong sat in front of the computer, his fingers rapidly striking the keyboard. First, he used a portable scanner to carefully scan each page from the metal box into high-resolution images. Zhao Lixin's signature, when magnified on the screen, revealed every stroke and turn clearly visible, like a grotesque scar.

Then, he connected the cassette player to the computer with an audio cable, converting that tape soaked with ten years of injustice into digital audio files. When Hou Liang's voice, full of fear and despair, came through the computer speakers again, Song Wenqi couldn't help but turn away, covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking silently.

Chen Mo leaned against the headboard, watching it all without a word. His wound was still throbbing with pain, but he seemed not to feel it. His entire consciousness was focused on the data stream being converted into 0s and 1s. That was Song Wenjie's life, Hou Liang's life, the lives of countless villagers from Hekou Town, all of which were gaining immortality in a completely new form.

After digitizing all files and recordings, Li Xiaodong began the uploading process. He registered for a foreign cloud storage service known for its high level of anonymity and security. Following Chen Mo's instructions, he set an extremely complex password that combined Song Wenjie's birthday, the coordinates of Hekou Town, and specific digits from his own police badge number, using an algorithm that only he understood. He entered it several times to confirm accuracy, then clicked the upload button.

On the screen, a blue progress bar began to move forward slowly. Each increment of progress was like loading the final gunpowder into a massive bomb.


During the upload, no one spoke. The air in the room was so heavy it seemed as if it could drip water.


"It's done," Li Xiaodong said softly after what seemed like an eternity.


The screen displayed "All files uploaded successfully." He immediately formatted the computer, then removed the write-protection tabs from the audio cassettes to ensure they could never record new sounds. Only after completing all this did he raise his head to look at Chen Mo.


"Brother Chen, I've memorized the account and password."


"Not just memorize," Chen Mo corrected him, his voice hoarse and serious, "engrave it into your brain. From now on, this account is your second life. No matter what happens, don't let anyone know about it. This is the final insurance."


Li Xiaodong nodded heavily. He knew that the data in this cloud storage was their final trump card, and also the Sword of Damocles hanging over Zhao Lixin's head on the day of judgment.

When dawn was breaking, the city was still asleep. Chen Mo struggled, with Li Xiaodong's support, to change into clean clothes. His face remained pale, but his eyes were unusually bright.
"I'm going out for a while," he said to Li Xiaodong.

"I'll go with you."


"No need," Chen Mo shook his head, "stay here and don't go anywhere. Protect the material, and protect yourself. Remember, before the final judgment comes, you are also a chess piece that needs to be sacrificed, and you absolutely cannot be exposed."


Before Li Xiaodong could say anything more, he had already turned around and slowly walked down the stairs. His silhouette still seemed somewhat unsteady, but in the faint morning light, it appeared incredibly resolute.


The first person he wanted to see was Song Wenqi.


Song Wenqi's flower shop wasn't open yet. Chen Mo waited at the entrance for a while before he saw her carrying breakfast, walking wearily from the alley entrance. Seeing Chen Mo standing there alone, she froze for a moment, then hurriedly ran over to him.


"Officer Chen, your injury... why are you out alone?" Her voice was filled with concern.


"I'm fine," Chen Mo looked at her, his face showing a rare hint of gentleness. "I came to say goodbye."


"Goodbye?" Song Wenqi's heart suddenly sank. "Where are you going?"


"To a place I should go, to do something I should do." Chen Mo didn't answer directly. His gaze passed over Song Wenqi's shoulder, looking toward the distant sky gradually turning light purple in the dawn.
He looked at the girl before him, this girl who had grown up quickly over the span of ten years because of her brother's wrongful case. Her persistence and trust were the initial and brightest spark in this darkness. If she hadn't secretly hidden that phone ten years ago, if she hadn't found the courage to find him ten years later, all the truth would have been forever buried in the dust.


"Wenqi," he called her name softly, "thank you. Thank you for your persistence these ten years."


Song Wenqi's tears suddenly welled up. She wanted to say something, wanted to ask him what exactly he was going to do, wanted to beg him not to take risks, but looking at Chen Mo's eyes reflecting the morning light, she suddenly couldn't utter a word. From those eyes, she read a sense of consolation, a kind of relief, and a calmness about facing one's destiny.


"Will it be dangerous?" she asked chokingly.


Chen Mo remained silent for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. He reached out his hand, wanting to pat her head like an elder would, but halfway through, he withdrew it. His hands, stained with too much blood and darkness, should not touch such purity.


He only looked at her deeply, etching her current appearance into his heart. Then, he turned around and, facing the rising sun, slowly walked into the depths of the alley.


"Dawn is breaking."


His final words drifted into Song Wenqi's ears along with the morning breeze. Song Wenqi stood in place, watching his gradually disappearing figure, tears blurring her vision. She knew that this phrase "Dawn is breaking" was his last tenderness left for this world.

Chen Mo didn't go home, but went directly to the city bureau compound.


When he arrived, it was the peak time for work. Police officers in uniform walked past him in small groups, and upon seeing him, they all avoided him as if he were a plague, or whispered and pointed at him. The rumor about him being "mentally unstable" and suspended from duty had already spread throughout the entire police station.


Chen Mo was oblivious to all this. His gaze fell on a green area at the corner of the office building. The emaciated orange cat was lying there vigilantly, and upon seeing him, it made a familiar purring sound from its throat.


Chen Mo slowly walked over, crouched down, and took out the last sausage from his pocket. He tore open the packaging and fed it to the cat bit by bit. This time, the orange cat didn't shy away, but instead came closer, affectionately rubbing its head against his hand. Chen Mo's fingers gently stroked its rough fur, his touch as delicate as if he were handling a priceless treasure.


"Eat," he said softly, "from now on, no one will feed you anymore."


After feeding the cat, he stood up and took one last look at the place to which he had dedicated half his life. Then, he walked into that familiar office building, heading straight to the office of the Second Brigade.


When the people in the office saw him, they all fell silent as if they had seen a ghost. Chen Mo ignored those shocked, contemptuous, or sympathetic glances, and simply walked to his forgotten corner, pulled out his chair, and sat down.
From his pocket, he slowly took out his police badge and ID card.


With his fingertips, he caressed that cold badge engraved with the national emblem, over and over again. This was the honor he had worn on his chest since graduating from the police academy. It had once been his entire faith and pride. Now, that faith had collapsed, and the honor was tarnished with stains that could never be washed away.


He placed the police badge neatly on the upper left corner of the desk, and put the opened police ID card beside it. The young, sharp-eyed version of himself in the photo was quietly looking at him.


Having done all this, he stood up and took one last look at this place where he had fought, struggled, and been disappointed. Then, he turned around and walked out without looking back.


Behind him, the office was dead silent.

Half an hour later, the chief reporters of the city's major mainstream media outlets, the editors of social news sections, and several influential self-media personalities known for their incisive reporting style, all received an anonymous email at almost the same time.
The sender's address was a completely random string of characters, impossible to trace.


The subject line of the email was sensationally provocative—


"Taihua Group Celebration Gala: A Live Broadcast of Ten Years of Crime"


The body of the email was very brief, containing only one sentence and a link.


"Tonight at 8 o'clock, at the Taihua Group's 30th anniversary celebration, Chairman Zhao Lixin will personally 'confess' to the people of the city. All truths will be revealed during the livestream."


The reporters' first reaction was dismissal. They received dozens of such mysterious anonymous tips every day. But when they instinctively clicked on the link, everyone was stunned.


It was a private livestream set up on a foreign server, with a very simple interface. The stream hadn't started yet, and in the center of the screen was only a crimson countdown, ticking second by second toward eight o'clock tonight. Below the countdown hung several thumbnails of video files that had already been uploaded.


When one bold reporter clicked on one of the thumbnails, he saw a pollution data report stamped with Taihua Group's official seal. The carcinogenic indicators that exceeded standards were densely listed, resembling a death sentence.
Another reporter opened an audio file, and Hou Liang's fearful accusation about government-business collusion came through clearly.


The entire media circle, at that moment, exploded into chaos.

At the same time, Li Xiaodong also completed the final task Chen Mo had assigned him.


Wearing a hat and mask, he walked into an ordinary post office. He handed a thick manila envelope through the window. Inside the envelope was a small USB drive and a letter he had printed out.
On the USB drive was a complete backup of all evidence of Taihua Group's crimes.


The letter had no salutation and no signature. It simply used the most objective and calm language to explain the suspicious points in the Song Wenjie case, the current pollution situation in Hekou Town, and the entire process of how they obtained this evidence. At the end of the letter, there was only one sentence.


"By the time you read this letter, Taihua Group's crimes are being made public. But we know that online outrage cannot replace legal judgment. This original evidence stored on the USB drive is the final blow to their heart. In the name of a citizen and a police officer who will soon no longer be a police officer, we ask you to ensure that justice does not arrive late once again."


Li Xiaodong chose the most reliable option, Express Mail Service. He wrote the recipient's address meticulously, stroke by stroke—


"Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection and Supervision Commission."


He watched as the postal worker tossed the package that would determine countless fates into the collection basket, then turned and merged into the endless stream of people on the street.


He knew that from this moment on, neither he nor Chen Mo had any way back. The chess piece had been placed, and the gamble had begun.


Next, all would depend on tonight's eight o'clock "celebration" that was destined to be a bloodbath.